Seven Deadly Sins
by The Frisky Firelily
Summary: Jayne has found himself sinning a little more than usual. Post-BDM, slightly AU for two very very good reasons. Rated for some swearing and adult situations.
1. Envy

**Title:** Envy

**Author: **The Frisky Firelily

**Disclaimer:** Ah children, if I owed them the bloody show would still be on air.

**A/N: **Well I'm back with this little tale. Slightly AU after the BDM, because I just can't fly without my full crew. I liked the idea of a fic based on the Seven Deadly Sins, and am ridiculously addicted to Rayne so it seemed to fit. A word of warning - I am a staunch athiest, and in no way mean this fic as a commentary on the nature of the Cardinal Sins or anything pertaining to any religion. This fic is solely written for my enjoyment, based on my love of Dante's Inferno and fascination with the concept of Seven Deadly Sins. Any comment pertaining to religion will be deleted - this is not an expression or indictment of beliefs. Please be sensible when reading it, do not take it as anything other than a fic I felt like writing. I'll shut up now :)

**POST-BDM**

When Jayne was young his mother had read to him from old books. Stories from earth-that-was comprised his nightly bedtime reading, although he'd never admit to such information now. Mercenaries didn't need to know about Grimm's fairytales, the risque accounts of Balzac, or the principles of law from Dostoyevsky. But know them he did.

His favourite had been an ancient text his mother had been given by his father when they first met, the last copy of its kind, passed down for generations. Monetarily the book could have provided for their family for years, but his parents never valued money that way, they valued each other. The gift was extravagant, but James Cobb had taken one look at the petite brunette Vera, and his heart had been owned from the beginning. The book was nothing compared to the smile that had graced his fiancee's face that day, and her love of reading had been passed along to their children.

Dante's Inferno, the extraordinary pilgramage into hell, had transfixed Jayne. The Cobbs were not religious, few settlers held on to such ancient beliefs, and although some still found the comfort of a higher power, the Cobbs had always been realists. Despite his own lack of belief in such a power, the things Dante wrote about held Jayne's attention. Rich language, ornate tapestries of description, and of course, the sins.

The idea of the Seven Deadly Sins fascinated him the most, the concept that these seven choices would affect a man's whole eternity both confused and intrigued him endlessly. Still, although fascinated by them, he had never felt any concern as an adult. Whoring, drinking, gambling, taking the cash when and where it came, these things all made sense to him, and an old book wasn't about to change that. Life was short, hell wasn't real, there was no pleasure that should be avoided. It had never bothered him.

Until now. Because lately Jayne had found himself a little overly aware of his own sinning. A bubble of concern had begun to rise up in him. And it was all her fault.

**ENVY:** An insatiable desire for something belonging to someone else, and a resentment towards the other individual for their possession. In Dante, "a desire to deprive other men of theirs".

Jayne had experienced envy innumerable times; the life of a merc wasn't exactly a rich gig, and more than once he'd not only acted on the desire, but profited heavily from it.

He'd coveted the best looking whores, especially when he was younger and had yet to develop the reputation he had now. Now it was simple enough to go into an establishment where his name was known and find himself surrounded. But as a teenager and a young man, with barely a coin to rub together, he'd had to settle for whatever he could get.

Even earlier than his teenage years Jayne had been envious. Envious of the kids who could stay in school, who didn't have to leave so they could help support their family. Envious of the boys with new clothes each season, while he wore whatever his mother could cobble together. Envious even more of the easy friendships these boys developed with equally well off children, while he was stuck with an over abundance of younger siblings. Envious of the pretty girls such boys attracted, who wouldn't look twice at the oversized and under educated boy from the Cobb farm.

Still, such envy had been tempered by knowing his father wouldn't beat him for failing a class, from knowing his siblings were better playmates and truer friends than any one of those well dressed boys, from feeling the warmth and love of his mother's kitchen. The envy was further tempered by the knowledge that his parents, although poor and hardworking, loved each other more than any other family on the whole planet, and didn't seek solace in the arms of greedy mistresses and overpaid gardeners.

But now his envy had no temperance. Jayne walked towards the galley, pausing in the doorway as he heard the sounds of low laughter. Little Kaylee was snuggled up beside the doctor on the couch. No one could deny that the boy had come into himself after the horrors of Miranda, had finally found his feet and his place in the 'Verse. Jayne had even come to think of him as crew, possibly even as a friend, if their last excursion to Peresephone (which had culminated with himself and a very inebriated Dr. Tam blundering their way back to the ship howling the filthiest limericks they knew) was anything to go by. Normally he wouldn't begrudge the boy a hint of happiness, but seeing them all curled up, all focused on each other and nothing else, all easy warmth and intimate comfort, made Jayne's blood boil.

It made him think of Wash and Zoe in the cockpit, her sitting on the funny man's lap, each with a hand laid across her now slightly swollen stomach. It made him think of the Captain and Inara, yelling violently at one another across the kitchen table that morning, each with a smile threatening their angry countenances.

That easy warmth, that family joy, that feeling of familiar arguments, that was what his parents had. He glanced towards the kitchen table, and saw the Captain reading over some schematics for the next job. Inara sat on the other side of the table, flipping slowly through a book on haiku whilst sipping her tea. At that same moment Serenity's resident psychic came floating into the room, her pale peach dress hanging like gossamer silk from her thin frame, her chocolate curls tumbling down her pale back. Bare feet silently crossed the galley floor towards Simon as she stopped to plant a quick, easy kiss on his forehead.

She'd become more comfortable with such gestures apparently, and now took great delight in enjoying the warmth and joy of physical touch with the majority of the crew. He thought back to yesterday, sharpening his knives at the table whilst watching Inara braid River's hair as the younger girl flipped through a book on Quantum Mechanics. Or the day before, when she had given Wash a fast hug after he'd shown her one of Serenity's handling procedures and praised her heavily. He'd felt an odd twisting in his stomach at that hug.

But her next action proved nearly his undoing. She approached the Captain, still sitting pouring over his schematics. Her quiet voice was still louder than the low laughter Kaylee and Simon were still emitting.

"Your entrance point is faulty, chances of success are vastly increased by taking the third ventilation shaft along the alley wall." Mal didn't even look up as he replied.

"Well that's why we have you darlin', to point out such increases." And with that he simply moved his right leg slightly outward, still not looking away from his schematics, and raised his arm. River perched quickly on Mal's knee, and his raised arm settled comfortably around her waist. The gesture was simple, familiar, more fatherly than intimate. It had obviously been performed a hundred times. River had grown closer to Mal, who now viewed her as some kind of surrogate daughter, and it was obvious to all the crew that he enjoyed feeling fatherly towards the tiny assassin. Inara didn't even look up, as used to this easy contact as the rest of the crew.

It made Jayne's eyes glaze over red. The sight of River seated comfortably on Mal's knee as if she'd always had a place there, pointing out some different escape route or another, was enough to damage Jayne's calm in a serious way.

He quickly stepped away from the doorway and back into the hall that led to the crew's quarters. He struggled to control his breathing as his hands clenched into fists. Breathing heavily through his nose he closed his eyes , leaned against the wall, and shook his head, willing this insane jealousy to slip away but finding no respite.

Fucking Mal, touching the girl, holding the girl; it was beyond painful. He marched quickly towards his room, barely able to control his movements to head in the right direction, only wanting to go back, smash his fist into Mal's smug face, and plant River on his own knee.

And why? Why in the name of hell would he care about River sitting on Mal's knee? He had wanted the crazy girl off the damn ship for months, although he had to admit his complaints had died down following Miranda.

The sight of all those lean muscles, tousled hair, wild eyes and Reaver corpses had sure been incredible. Hell, if he were honest with himself he'd felt this same desire back then, to battle through the Fed's surrounding her and take her for his own.

When he'd been a boy his father had taken him hunting, and one late night they'd come across a pack of wolves in a clearing. They'd stayed low and hadn't bothered the animals, so the usually violent creatures had let them be. His father had instructed him to observe.

"See that boy? That there's the Alpha, and he's got the whole damn pack to look after. Ain't easy for him, but he's got a teammate. That little thing there? She's the Alpha female. See, wolves mate for life. All that running and hunting ain't no fun without a partner to run with. And they stay true to each other too. Smart things, wolves."

Jayne had been fascinated, studying the male, a massive grey timber wolf, as he surveyed his pack. The female, a slim, delicate looking thing with dark eyes that flashed against the light, had sidled up beside him and calmly licked his ear. The male had returned the gesture, and the two had made a fine sight as they stood side by side.

Couple of weeks later some poachers had come through his Daddy's land, and although Jayne and his brother's had sorted them out real quick, there were casualties. Jayne had come across the body of the female later that day, half her head blown away from a rifle blast. The male had been sniffing at her corpse, and then turned towards Jayne. Although never a poetic boy, Jayne had seen a sorrow in that animal's eyes that he never wanted to see again. The once proud animal now looked broken beyond repair. The male had loped off into the trees, but two days later Jayne's brother Kyle had found his body. Said the damn thing had broken his neck.

Since then Jayne had come to fairly certain terms when it came to the females of his species – if a poor dumb animal like a wolf could become so distraught when it lost it's mate, than what chance did a man have? Better to never get attached like that, never to feel that kind of pain.

Jayne had managed to only calm himself down slightly, and he knew he should avoid Mal for at least a couple of days so he didn't do anything stupid. At the moment a small, delicate looking hand laid across his darkly tanned arm. It looked out of place something fierce against the thick muscle and spattering of hair on his forearm. He looked from the hand to River's large, chocolate eyes. Her face was solemn, but her eyes held something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Calm yourself, lupine one, patriarchal comfort fails to usurp the Alpha." And before he could ask her to explain at least four words of that sentence she had slipped away, back towards the galley. Back towards fucking Mal. She turned in the doorway to the kitchen and raised a delicate eyebrow, as if she expected him to understand. Her eyes flashed in that same way he'd seen on the female wolf. Then she turned and walked into the kitchen, out of sight.

He stood in place for a moment, dumbfounded, before he remembered an old fairytale. Little Red Riding Hood, he thought it was called, and he knew he'd heard the word lupine there. He struggled to remember the story...was there an animal in it? Lupine...did that mean wolf? A patriarch was a father, he knew that part.

His brow was furrowed but the smallest hint of a smile tweaked the right side of his mouth. Wolf. Huh. His arm still hummed with her touch against his skin, although she had long since removed her hand.

Maybe being envious wasn't all that bad when crazy girl's with chocolate eyes called you an Alpha. Jayne wondered if maybe the wolf hadn't had it right all along.

A/N: So obviously I'm planning a chapter per Sin, and possibly a final chapter to round this out. Would LOVE feedback (as would be all :) ) Please leave a comment! Thanks so so much for reading this.


	2. Pride

**Title:** Pride

**Author: **The Frisky Firelily

**Disclaimer:** Ah children, if I owed them the bloody show would still be on air.

**PRIDE:** To indulge oneself in a feeling of satisfaction or pleasure; a sense of ones own dignity or self-respect. Cutting off ones nose to spite the face. In Dante: "the sparks that have set fire to the hearts of all men." Perverted love directed towards actual harm of others.

Jayne had always been proud. Even as a child, in his cheap, patched clothing. Even as a teenager, refusing to beg Mae Furlington for a date. Even as a grown man, upholding his somewhat odd sense of "morality". If you can't do something smart, do something right. Never beg 'em. Never show fear. Never let 'em see anything but strength. Pride was about love for oneself and, aside from his family back home, Jayne only loved Jayne.

There were only a handful of times in his life when he had put his pride to one side, only a few times he had acquiesced to something in such a way that he was ashamed. The last time had been right after Ariel. Mal may never know it but that had been the day that Jayne had shown all his cards. He'd begged the man not to tell the others what he had done. He'd sublimated himself to Mal, hoping for the rest of the crew never to find out about his slip up.

It had hurt. It had burned deep in his chest. But the crew finding out what he had done to deserve his death-by-airlock was more painful. And so he had put his pride aside. And Mal had let him back inside.

Jayne was more than familiar with the concept of pride, which meant he knew exactly why he was acting this way. The little crazy girl had gotten under his skin the other day, talking about wolves and looking at him with those big wide eyes. Eyes that had briefly flashed with something much older and more seductive than anything he'd ever seen next day he'd seen Simon hand River a bulletproof vest sized to fit her, and she'd given him that smile.

That smile was the strangest thing in the whole 'Verse. It was as if, by some strange reconstruction, the solemn little face that River so often wore was transformed into something enchantingly innocent, something glowing and joyous and beaming. And after Simon had left she'd turned the smile onto him, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow as she did so. That innocent smile became far too wordly, and her voice was low as she spoke.

"Time is vesitgial, but still he remembers. Formal legality should be met with offerings, yes?" And she'd looked at him with those knowing eyes, seeing something he didn't think he liked her seeing. So Jayne had done the right thing.

He'd ignored the girl outight, and then embarked on some kind of warpath. Every little thing she did, he picked on. Everytime she interacted with him he pointedly ignored her or made a sneering remark about her sanity, her looks, her behaviour, anything that crossed his mind. Warm brown eyes had no business looking at him like they knew something he didn't, and his pride demanded retribution.

There was no remark too crude, no glare too harsh, no action to isolationary. He'd made Kaylee furious at him when he'd commented on River's new outfit.

"'S the point a wearin' something that low cut? Scrawny little thing ain't got nothin' ta show anyhow." Kaylee had turned red, and slapped him full across the cheek, before storming out of the kitchen cursing his name.

He'd caused Inara to momentarily loose her cool when he'd stated that there was no way River would ever find a guy to "take on a crazy, violent little thing". The ex-Companion had glared at him, before making a cutting remark about his warped perception of women. Simon and Mal had both yelled at him, and he'd made Zoe do her scary _I look stoic but I'm reaching for my Mare's Leg_ thing. Even Wash had protested his treatment of the her, especially when Jayne had "accidently" knocked a piece of her birthday cake onto the floor. Wash had pointed out that even at 18 River had twice the manner's that Jayne had at 32.

And all throughout the girl in question hadn't responded. Everytime he made such a comment she simply gave him an even stare, her eyes showing mild disappointment but revealing nothing more. Not a tear, not a retaliation, not a single reproach had passed her lips. She didn't even look at him like he was an annoyance.

So now he sat on his weight bench, having exhausted his body but failing to exhaust his overactive mind. He knew why he was reacting like this, knew he was simply keeping the girl at a distance, letting her know she wasn't on his radar as anything more than an annoyance. He heard Book's soft steps as the preacher approached him. The older man sat quietly on the other end of the workbench, gratefully upwind of the smell of sweat. Jayne couldn't even look the Shepard in the eye as the man began to speak.

"I worked briefly in an orphanage on Persephone. The children there were quite enlightening. My favourite time was around springtime, when the boys were just outside of puberty. Girls suddenly became interesting, and the young males expressed this most succinctly. Hair pulling was a favourite, closely followed by pushing the girls in the mud. Then there was the name calling."

Book looked at Jayne now, and the mercenary hated the feeling that he knew where the older man was going.

"They were embarassed, you see. They felt that showing the signs of affection they wanted to show would be unmanly or shameful. Their pride required the opposite action to be taken. A girl was treated more poorly than others because she had dared to attract his attention and the boy, lacking of course in the social skills he would later develop, could find no better way to express this." The older man's rich voice was oddly soothing over Jayne's nerves.

Jayne sighed. The preacher smirked to himself, quickly regaining a hold of his features when the mercenary looked up to speak. "Ain'tcha got no words for me on the special hell?" Book looked surprised and amused.

"My friend, I have no idea what you're talking about. And even if I did, I wouldn't expect that you'd listen or want to understand." The last part was said kindly, although the words would have stung a bit, had Jayne thought them true. With that, Book left. Jayne felt no need to correct him on the latter point, but found himself mumbling quietly, "already, I feel the heavy weights of the first terrance."

When he walked into the mess later, knowing he looked a little bit guilty, he avoided the angry stares and quickly moved towards River. The girl sat on top of the coffee table in front of the crash chairs, delicately picking at whatever foul mess Simon had designed for dinner.

He moved quickly, placing his offering in front of her, mumbling an apology and straightening to leave. But not before she glanced down at the slightly stale piece of cake Jayne had obviously saved from the other night, and looked up at him. Jayne was entranced.

The sight of that extraordinary, beaming smile made his chest do weird and unpredictable things. Oddly warm things.

It was enough to make Jayne wonder if maybe his nose was just fine where it was.

**A/N: **My least favourite sin to deal with, as it is difficult to properly define and obtain appopriate negative connotation. Sigh, hope it turned out alright. Also, I know everyone likes to paint Book as the "special hell speech giver" when it comes to Rayne, but I can't help but think a man with a past so mysterious (and, in my mind, dark and convoluted) would be more than capable of seeing the truth of things. The quote "already, I feel the heavy weights of the first circle" is from Dante, who expressed fear whilst passing the first circle (The Proud) and seeing his own fault of pride. Please read and review :)


	3. Greed

TITLE: Greed

DISCLAIMER: I own nuthin'.

GREED: A very excessive or rapcious desire to pursue wealth and power. Usually refers to overzealous desire for material wealth. In Dante, the souls of the greedy are placed face down, to show their over concentration on earthly thoughts/possessions.

Jayne had always been extremely comfortable with his level of greed. His childhood may have been rich in love and wealthy in joy, but adult Jayne was sure comfortable with money and things. In the past that had been all that mattered. The highest paying employer got his "loyalty", and comrades would be quickly abandoned in favour of cold hard cashy money. The only possessions he truly felt connected too were his weapons, and he had always found that the latest firearm, the newest modifiers, and the sharpest knives would make him happy.

Lately Jayne thought maybe his view was changing a little. He knew full well how much trouble getting too greedy could be to a man, Ariel being a prime example of this, and he was willing to acquiesce that he'd found other small things to value during his time on Serenity.

Kaylee's warm nature and easy trust was one of them. The comfortable friendship he'd found with Book was another. He even liked Simon...somtimes. Mainly when there was alcohol involved cuz damn that boy was a funny drunk. He, Mal and Wash had begun having regular card games, which usuall ended in Zoe removing her intoxicated, giggling husband before he gave away anymore of his chores. Even Inara had warmed to him a little, and on night's when she cooked Jayne felt pretty damn grateful for her to say the least.

The crazy girl had been the biggest surprise. When she wasn't slashing his chest open or having a screaming fit, which he admitted happened less and less following Miranda, he found he could enjoy her company. Quiet time spent cleaning their weapons, occasionally punctated by conversations on the latest issue of Guns and Ammo, had become a peaceful way to spend time in the black. And he could definitely see the value of taking her on jobs. Hell, Miranda would never have happened if he hadn't listened to the crazy girl on Lilac.

He'd never felt the value of such friendship before, and it was confusing and annoying him. Friendship meant attachment, ties, chains of obligation. He already had a nice set of chains leading straight to his blood kin, he damn well didn't want another one. But following his recent pique of pride, and still feeling the occasional warning glare from his Captain, Jayne was trying.

Dinner was the easiest place to feel like a family. Miranda had strengthened the bonds between all member's of the crew, and there was an easy comfort to be found in the long discussions or easy banter that dinner would bring. Tonight was no exception.

"So I'm waiting for the counsellor, who has been described as this old, rickety gentleman, and I'm petrified." 'Nara leaving the Companion profession to become a Counsellor had been no surprise to any of the crew, and had loosened her tongue a little when it came to "whorin'" stories. No names or acts were ever mentioned, but even Mal found some of the more ridiculous ones funny.

"It was the first assingment, which is an enormously stressful thing already, and I was trying desperately to calm my mind when all I wanted was a huge glass of wine. Unfortunately, one of the footman must have deduced this. He could have told me the fruit juice was alcoholic!" Inara paused while the crew laughed at the idea of their calm, collected friend desperate for a drink. An inebriated Inara on her first assignation was pretty damn ridiculous to think about.

Dinner was finished, but the crew still hugn around the table, all enjoying the atmosphere. The last job on Peresephone had actually been extremely lucrative, and Kaylee and Book had done a fine job creating a celebratory feast. Jayne was on his third plate of mash with real chicken while everyone else was stuffed to the gills.

"Jayne, we'll be planetside on Beaumonde for only an hour to refuel, think you can give up the cathouse for a shoppin' trip? We need ammo." Jayne opened his mouth to complain when Mal immediately continued.

"Sorry, I made that sound like a question. You'll be goin' ammo shopping." Jayne grumbled quietly but then remembered that River usually came to the ammunition stores with him. He wondered why that was enough to shut him up.

The next day he set out with River and Kaylee, who needed to check the parts shop for Serenity's latest wishlist.

The ammo shop was just next door, so he left Kaylee to it and took River with him inside. They spent a quiet ten minutes rounding up what they needed before River's head suddenly snapped up.

"What is it girl?" She bolted outside, her wares forgotten on the counter, and Jayne knew enough to follow her quick smart. Outside Kaylee was being harassed by a store owner selling engine parts. From the sounds of the argument she had corrected him on a part he'd tried to sell her, and the man then maintained she'd broken it and had to pay him.

Poor Kaylee was near tears, backing away into the middle of the street as the incresingly angry shopkeeper raised his arm to backhand her. He didn't get to.

A thin arm darted out and grabbed his hand on it's downswing, using his momentum to flip him over, landing him heavily face down on the dirt. Still holding his arm, now twisted painfully behind his back, River set one oversized black boot on the back of his neck delicately. One look in her eyes told Jayne this was not the unseeing Academy pawn, but rather an irate young woman. A crowd had gathered to watch the proceedings, and Jayne was prepared to step in if needed, but knew he wouldn't be.

The small girl's eyes flashed as she spoke. "The dirt, punishment for your sins. Your earthly concentration. See it, it is all you will see." Jayne knew the reference, and watched in awe as the now still shopkeeper struggled not to cry at the pain in his arm. Just as quickly as it had happened, it was over. River dropped his arm down and walked back to Kaylee, who looked worried but relieved.

The shopkeeper looked up and stood with an ugly look in his eye, lunging towards River's back. Jayne decided the shopkeeper might need some elaboration. Grabbing him by the shirt collar he lifted him clean in the air, turning him so they were eye to eye. The man looked ready to protest his admittedly rough treatmeant until he saw the anger in Jayne's face.

"Touch 'em again and they won't know where to find your parts." He tossed the man back into the dirt, where he promptly soiled himself. Making a face of disgust, Jayne moved back towards the girls, who were now heading back into the ammo shop.

"You two grab what we picked out, I'll take care o' yer parts Kaylee." The younger girl gave hima watery smile, and he hated the man even more. Anyone who made Kaylee look like that deserved a lot more.

By the time they got back to the ship Kaylee had calmed down, but not enough to stop herself running to Simon for a hug, which he obligingly gave. After explaining the situation quickly to Zoe, the first mate instructed her husband to take off immediately. No one looked ready to come after them but there was no point in tempting face.

Jayne turned towards River in the hold. She was standing on the second step of the stairs, which put her almost at his eyelevel. She hadn't even broken a sweat, and looked just as beautiful as ever. He wondered when he had started thinking on her like that. She looked at him with those otherwordly eyes and he knew she'd heard the thought.

"Basic greed, covetousness. Best guns, sharpest knives. Always wanting to add the finest weapon to your arsenal." As she spoke she slowly removed Binky from the sheath at his belt. She looked at it for a moment and he wondered why he wasn't afraid. "Beautiful," she breathed the word and her breathed the word and he was close enough to feel the air move with her warm breath.

She placed the knife back just as delicately. With that she leaned in very close, and Jayne was assaulted with the scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Not a perfume, he realized, the damn girl just smelt that good. He felt her breath as she spoke. "No dirt to be found in this sin." And just as Jayne had made up his mind to kiss those damn pink, pouty lips, she turned and moved fluidly up the stairs and away.

He stood dumbstruck for a moment. He pulled out Binky again, and looked at the finely constructed stiletto in his hands. He kept his massive hunting blade strapped to his boot, but this slim knife had saved his ass more times than he cared to count. Thin but razor sharp, it could inflict pain and death faster than any other.

He slowly replaced the blade. He sure did love weapons. Took care of 'em, and they took care of him. A good choice in wordly possessions as far as he was concerned.

And Jayne was always looking to expand his arsenal.

A/N: How are we travelling so far? Still interested? I'm really excited about writing wrath and lust, and hopefully sloth and gluttony will be good too. I'm pumped! Hope you're all enjoying this :)


	4. Lust

**TITLE:** Lust

**DISCLAIMER: **If I owned them less clothes would be involved.

**A/N:** Ah children, the one that all your dirty little minds have been looking forward to. This is where we start earning that rating – probably an NC-17.

**LUST:** A craving for sexual intercourse, which can sometimes assume a violent and self-indulgent nature. In Dante. "an excessive love of others".

Jayne was hard up. No...not hard up. That didn't even begin to cover it. He was in ruttin' agony. And he had a few people he felt he could blame for that.

First there was the Captain. Jayne, like the rest of the crew, loved the black. He was born for it. The quiet of space, the feeling of isolation and endless freedom, it spoke deeply to him. He had felt the urge for it as long as he could remember, the urge to be far away from rules and control. He had loved his family, still did, but the black sang to him like a siren song, tempting him into her cold, empty 'verse. But even those born for it felt the urge for solid ground under their feet occasionally. Or, in Jayne's case, a warm female body under his own.

And ruttin' Mal had decided that after their last job, another surprisingly lucrative enterprise from badger, that spending a few weeks in the black was a capital idea. A "vacation", he'd called it. And whilst Jayne understood that the Captain's idea of "vacation" became a very loose one indeed when there was a woman as fine as Inara warming his bed, the mercenary couldn't help but feel that urge to strangle him.

Three weeks into their month and a half long journey, and Jayne had grown more than tired of his right hand. And, by some vile twist of irony, his sex drive (already substantial), had decided to go into overload (pardon the pun). It was all he thought about. Day in, day out. He'd never been in better shape, desperately trying to burn of his excess sexual energy through exercise. He'd asked for every menial, dirty, annoying job that was available, in the hopes that his mind would rest when he was past the point of exhaustion. People on the ship had even started noticing. Zoe had asked him if he'd been sleeping, and Simon had offered him a sedative.

He almost took it, but just couldn't get over his hatred of knock-outs. He fully supported them when he was having bullets ripped out of him, but just couldn't imagine doing it for sleep. Too risky. So here he was, past midnight, trying to push through this torturous desire. He could have coped, he really thought he could have, but that's where Kaylee came into it.

Darling little Kaylee playing with the gorram temp controls. "It'll give us a little more power", she'd said. "I'll just redirect a little of the systems energy into our speed control." A brilliant idea in theory, but in practice it now meant that the ship was as hot as a gorram sauna, and had been for a week and a half. Although Mal had decided that he'd definitely better put in a stop on Beaumonde for the extra part Kaylee had sheepishly requested to fix the problem, that still wouldn't be for another week.

He could have survived the heat, he really really thought he could have, except for the girl's. See, Jayne had some pretty damn specific categories in his mind for the women of the ship. Kaylee was a sister (now), Inara was an untouchable (she'd taught him that one herself), Zoe was terrifying (but had legs like you only dreamed of), and River was...

Well River had been in the psycho crazy girl category but lately he found that one a little tricky. Either way, these categories were designed to keep everyone safe and happy, to avoid situations that could get complicated.

Again, a great idea in theory, but the reality of being in a hot ship had never been considered before. Inara, used to her creature comforts, was the first to cave. Last week when he'd seen her in the galley, wearing little more than a skirt and a bikini top, his eyes had bugged out of his head. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd immediately adjourned to his bunk for some "Jayne Time".

Kaylee was the next to cave. Although from Cyrus, a hot planet, she didn't enjoy dripping sweat onto the engine, and so her usual overalls and long sleeved print shirts had been replaced with a pair of denim shorts and a lacey pink tank top. Jayne sighed, he'd envied the doc that morning when he'd first seen Kaylee dressed like that. Lucky sonofabitch.

Zoe held out a hell of a long time, but two days ago she switched her leather vest and shirt for some kind of strapless tube thingy that had done wonderfully filthy things to Jayne's image of her. Terrifying, yes. Hot as hell with a great rack? Oh yeah.

He knew he wasn't the only one suffering, he'd seen Wash and Mal staring at their respective women, and Jayne knew Simon's pink cheeks hadn't just been from the heat of the ship. Even Book had been avoiding one on one situations with the ladies of Serenity.

Jayne could have survived the girls, he really really could have, until River started to feel warm too. Yesterday morning he'd come into the cargo bay to find her doing what her brother called ballet and what Jayne privately called cruel and unusual punishment. A white tank top and a pair of miniscule black shorts were all she'd decided to don, and the sight of that thin, lithe body leaping around the heated cargo bay was enough to make Jayne drool. His eyes had glazed over at the sight of he r performing a complicated routine, and his mind reeled at the thought of what could be done with a body so flexible.

It had taken Simon giving him a not so gentle punch on the shoulder to remind him that someone else was waiting to get down the steps, and the younger man's smirk was enough to shake Jayne out of his reverie.

But the image had remained, and the powerful urges he'd felt over the last few weeks were nothing compared to what was going on in his mind now. Images of tearing that white, sweatsoaked tank top right off her thin chest filled his mind, the sight of her drenched hair sticking to her face as she spun instantly making him wonder what she tasted like. He bet she'd be sweet, like honey or cherries.

Her lips pouting in concentration had almost been his undoing, and the thought of what that pink pout would look like wrapped around his cock flashed through his mind, before being immediately replaced with wondering what her face would look like if he bent her over the galley table and took her from behind.

He bet she was a screamer.

And so here he was, Jayne Cobb, known in every whore house on Persephone and any number of other worlds, desperatetly trying to work off the sexual tension that was making him hard as a gorram diamond.

He heard the tiniest noise from the galley and held his breath, listening. Silent feet slipped slowly down the steps of the cargo bay, finally resting on the floor. A slender figure crossed quickly towards a crate, where Jayne knew River had left her music player. The heat was almost unbearable, settling around him like an unwelcome blanket, and he knew he was covered in sweat from his workout.

The song slowly filled the cargo bay, and Jayne watched as River took her position in the middle of the dance floor. A rolling, rocking beat, packed with enough bass to make Jayne's toes curl started filling the room, and he sat entranced from his bench as she started to move. Still ballet, still those graceful moves that spoke of muscle memory and control beyond his wildest imagination. Still the same flowing movements into flexible positions that made his head spin. But such moves were now accompanied by those he knew she'd picked up from watching others dance wildly in bars, hips rolls, her hands grazing her flat stomach and small breasts as she dipped to the floor and moved back up.

Jayne didn't remember giving his feet the order to stand, but stand they did, and he wasn't surprised when they took him slowly towards the moving girl. She knew he was there, he could tell by her lack of surprise at his foot falls, and Jayne briefly wondered if he should have put on a shirt. Finally he reached her, and she stopped, turning slowly to face him. The music still curled around his ears, down his chest, and the look she gave him went straight to his cock, which he hadn't possibly thought could be any harder.

"Girl, you...you should be in bed." God it was hard to control the tension in his voice, and when she quirked her eyebrow, his tenuous self control was pushed to breaking point.

"Don't want bed." Her large brown eyes looked innocent for a moment, before turning into chocolate pools that taunted him towards a universe so dark and all encompassing he was almost speechless.

"What do you want?" Her lips quirked into a smirk to rival his own.

"She wants a whirlwind."

As she spoke, she leaned upwards, her arms stretching behind her back, pushing her small breasts towards his view. Still a foot and a half of height between them, he could still see a slow bead of sweat trickle down her neck and between those breasts.

Jayne snapped.

He lunged then, gripping her around her ribs and swinging her to the nearest wall, her back hitting hard. One hand held her in place while the other tore her tank top directly down the middle, leaving her chest exposed. Her breasts, her flat stomach, her impossibly small waist gave him a moment of pause. His thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts before one hand travelled up to her face skimming under her jaw and around the back of her neck, tangling in her wet, loose curls. He looked into her eyes, in control enough to check, to see, to ask without asking.

Her answer, the long fingers and sharp nails of her hand tracing the same pattern along his jaw whilst she snarled ferally was everything he'd needed. He plunged his mouth over hers, tasting her sweat, her breathe, twining his tongue with hers as her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist and she rolled her hips.

All control now lost he moaned into her mouth, which he briefly noted tasted exactly like cherries, while he tore away her flimsy shorts. He felt her chest pressed into his own, crushed her tiny body to his as he kissed her with every pent up thought he'd had about her for weeks now. Her nails were pricking his back and he shifted one hand up under her ass, pulling back to watch her face as he entered her in one fast move.

Tight, holy god she was tight, slick beyond his wildest dreams and tighter than he'd ever imagined. He felt a barrier tearing, and stopped his movement to look at her. Cheeks flushed, hair sticking to her face, her eyes had screwed shut briefly in pain before she opened them to look at him, those chocolate pools clouded over with lust. "You ain't ever?" She gave him a look she usually reserved for Simon.

"Stop now and she'll kill you with her brain." Jayne knew when to obey a command, and he immediately continued thrusting into her, desperately trying not to come like a 13 year old boy. But the girl was a tiny hellcat, moving, clawing, scratching and biting him, her harsh gasps growing faster. He grabbed her hands a pinned them over her head, bringing her breasts up and into his eyeline. They bounced with the force of his harsh thrusting, and her eyes began to glaze over as her inner walls fluttered around him.

Her cries of pleasure filled the cargo bay, and Jayne briefly thanked Kaylee for soundproofing the bunks a while back. He watched her pants speed up even faster, before she finally snapped. Her low, keening wail of pleasure soon assaulted his ears, and the sight of that pink mouth forming an 'o' while her chest flushed and her inner walls fluttered around him was his undoing. He came harder than he'd ever thought possible, one hand gripping her wrists while the other bruised her hip. Every last piece of tension he'd held poured from him, and it was more satisfying than anything he'd ever felt before. Empty, drained, perfect.

When he finally came down he leaned forward to the wall, resting his head against the almost cool bulkhead of the ship as he came down. He held her limp body too his own, finally moving back to his bench to sit, her legs to firmly locked around his back, her head resting on his shoulder.

She sleepily raised her head, a small smile gracing her mouth, and delicately kissed the side of his neck. One hand stroked her hair as the guilt descended over him. Barely 18, what had he done?

She moved his jaw so his eyes were forced to meet her own. Her voice was breathy and hoarse from her screams. "Create no tale of woe." Jayne was about to protest when she kissed him again, this time a gentle, soft kiss that made his head fill with images of wedding rings and grandchildren. Her eyes widened and her smile grew slightly. He could see himself wanting that smile like a drug one day. Could see himself craving the scratch marks he felt on his back like an addict. Could understand why men died for this.

He couldn't do this.

As if she felt the change in him River's eyes became cool and calm, almost disappointed. "She understands. He doesn't comprehend." And with that she stood, and he immediately felt the loss of her. He stood upright, quickly tucking himself into his pants.

"Ain't nuthin' girl, just a bit a tension needed ta get worked off. Ya were available." His words were cruel and tasted like bile in his mouth as he spoke harshly. She stood silently a moment, naked except for the tattered remains of her shirt, looking more dignified than he thought even Inara could. His shame grew as she looked at him evenly, her eyes reddening just a hint, before she nodded.

"As you say, slaves to lust." And with that she calmly ascended the steps of the dark cargo bay and disappeared.

And as Jayne stood there in the middle of the sauna like bay, still panting from the whirlwind they'd created, feeling his cock grow hard again at the sight of her long legs and bare ass as she climbed up out of sight, he knew he'd made a mistake.

Because it only takes one hit to create an addict.

**A/N:** I know, a teeny bit of angst, but stories require conflict children! I hope you all enjoyed that, writing smut is always so damn tricky. Please review :)


	5. Sloth

**TITLE:** Sloth

**DISCLAIMER: **Nope, still not mine!

**A/N:** This one was really quite difficult to write, both character and storywise, so I really hope it's come out alright. For anyone wondering the definitions are kind of cobbled together to suit the story (and yes I'll admit to using Wikipedia!).

**SLOTH:** Failure to utilize ones talents and gifts, physical or emotional apathy and inactivity. In Dante, the slothful were condemmned to running at top speed for all eternity.

Jayne had never been inactive. He'd always been physically fit, and an already powerfully built body was kept exceedingly well conditioned. He kept his weapons in good condition, and one of those was his body. Physical labour had always appealed to him over intellectual pursuits, and his chosen profession allowed plenty of chances to maintain that. That wasn't to say he didn't like having knowledge, it's just it was a very specific area of knowledge he liked. He was known as one of the finest trackers in the 'verse, hell that's why Mal had hired him in the first place.

Kinda.

His combat skills, although lacking in finesse, were still careful calculated according to his strengths and his opponents weaknesses. He could spot a bad ankle or a recently healed fracture a mile away. He knew weapons like nobodies business, his mind always quickly cataloguing what he had, Zoe had, Mal had, their collective firepower and the firepower of everyone else at a meet. He'd yet to come across a gun he didn't recognise, and Mal had given him control of ammunition purchasing fairly early on.

Yes, Jayne had a wealth of very specialized knowledge. Which was how he got into this trouble in the first place. Post-Miranda Mal had gotten even more overprotective of his crew. The bonds that the horrific events had cemented were now more like that of a large, disfunctional family. Even Jayne had to admit that he felt it, as much as it irked him.

So when Simon had politely requested that Jayne give him some basic lessons in weaponary and tracking, the mercenary had actually been flattered, and pleased at the chance to show off his knowledge. Or at least he would have been if he wasn't so damned uncomfortable aorund the Doc as of late.

It had been two weeks since he'd...met...with River in the cargo bay. In that time Kaylee had finally gotten the temp controls back to normal, and they'd made a quick, unscheduled stop off on Persephone to refuel and take a breather. Jayne had immediately sought out the nearest whore house, and had spent three months pay desperately trying to shake off the chains that River seemed to have thrown around him.

Chains. Gorram chains he felt slicing into his skin and causing him to break out in a cold sweat whenever she had entered a room. Chains that caused him to wake up in the middle of the night to tangled sheets and a throbbing in his cock like nothing he'd ever felt before. He dreamt of the smell of her, the feeling of her slick flesh against his, the sound of her soft mewls and harsh breathing as she gripped onto him. Her screams as she came, clenching around him. He'd actually given himself an arm cramp trying to work off the tension.

And nothing worked. No matter what he did he couldn't come. Even surrounded by whores, women trained to make exactly that happen, he couldn't come. Hard as a rock he worked for hours, but nothing helped. The most experienced women on Persephone couldn't give him what he'd found in that one, harsh whirlwind with a skinny teenager. Even when they'd looked like her, slim and brunette, nothing could compare to the hellcat he'd experienced, the girl whose virginity he'd taken. The shame and guilt still choked him almost as much as the desire to possess her again. He was drowning, he couldn't escape. He had made his apologies and headed back to the ship, exhausted and unsated.

He was barely holding it together, which was why the doc's request should have been a welcome distraction, but Jayne could barely look the man in the eye. He'd avoided River like the plague, and the crew had begun to notice. The tired circles under his eyes had begun to cause questions, and even Zoe had asked if River had done something to bother him.

And the girl. The damn girl was just floating along as though nothing was happening, as though nothing had happened. Polite but never overly interested, she gave him nothing. He'd only once caught her looking at him with that strange mix of pity and disappointment, but only for a split second, before that polite formality had returned.

He probably could have survived this way if Mal hadn't caught wind of Simon's request. He'd thought it was a brilliant idea, and had quickly roped in Kaylee, Inara and Wash for the tutorial. Said they all needed to know some basic defence tactics, that he wasn't going to risk losing anyone.

Eventually the brilliant Captain had decided that Jayne should train with River too. Said that they had complimentory skills, her finesse and his strength could be invaluable. When he'd brought it up at dinner Jayne had nearly choked on his protein mash, whilst River had just nodded calmly.

"Of course, Captain Daddy." Mal had beamed with pride at that, and even Simon had agreed that it was a good idea to get some knowledge together. The gorram doc had even gone on to suggest a sparring match. Six months ago Simon would have protested anything even remotely combat related if his sister was involved, but he'd obviously come to the decision that a combat ready River was a safe River. Damn his newfound maturity.

So here he was, waiting in the cargo bay, desperately trying not to remember the last time he'd been down here and gotten physical with the girl. The crew had gathered along the catwalk above, eager to watch the presentation. He sighed, where the hell was the girl. Might as well get this over with. When she finally descended the stairs he nearly choked on his own tongue.

Another pair of black short, miniscule enough not to restrict any movement, and a white tank top. That was it. If he let himself squint he could almost see her nipples under the thin fabric. He resolutely looked away. Mal began his rules lecture once more.

"Alright you two, no blows to the face, no weapons, no shoes, nothing that could actually hurt your opponent. Got it 'Tross?" River nodded, never removing her dark eyes from Jayne's.

"Jayne, you got all that?" Jayne grimaced. "Loud 'n clear, Capt'n." Mal looked to Inara who set her timer. "You got three seconds to get up after a knock down or we name a winner. And...go."

River obviously anticipated his first blow, ducking and rolling before springing up on the balls of her feet and striking out with her right leg. He barely had time to move before she switched legs, lashing out with a brutal left roundhouse.

He found his footing, grabbing her leg and used her momentum to slam her into a wall. He winced when he realized which wall it was, but she had turned the throw into a wall flip, landly soundly behind him and landing a blow to his kidney. The first touch of his skin against hers had been like electricity, lighting every single part of his body on fire.

He grunted, turning quickly to block her next fist, before circling her again. The onlookers watched the two predators as they moved. As they danced. No one could call it anything else, River's graceful movements and speed juxtaposed against Jayne's brute strength and size. They were silent as the pair moved fluidly, one landing a blow as fast as the other gained their footing.

Kaylee glanced at Simon, who she was surprised to see had a smug smile and was raising his eyebrow. "You sure yer ok with this? They look pretty scary." Simon smiled at her, before looking to the Captain, who nodded. The doctor's voice rang out, full of pride and anticipation.

"Stop holding back River." The words were like magic, and Jayne barely had time to see the girl speed up, her moves immediately becoming more calculated and lethal. The complex dance became difficult to follow as all he could to was parry and avoid her blows and kicks, her flexibility evident as she stretched and flowed.

He hated how much he wanted her, hated feeling so aroused while he was defending himself against this slip of a girl. He tank top rode up slightly as she performed a backbend away from his fist, exposing the milky flesh of her taut stomach. The distraction allowed her to complete the move by bringing up her legs and smashing them into his chest. He fell backwards, and looked up to see River, flushed and stunning, holding her fighting stance. She quirked an eyebrow in what he could only call disdain.

"Move, sloth, inactivity is sinful." His eyes narrowed and he kipped to his feet, instantly bringing a fist towards her stomach. She moved, allowing his momentum to push him forward, and landing a blow to his back. He managed to hold his balance, swinging around and grabbing her from behind. He anticipated her next move, the same one that had brought him to his knees at the Maidenhead, but her hand didn't go to his crotch. Instead, she shivered.

He was completely thrown when she briefly went limp in his arms, hating the way his own skin broke out in goosebumps at the feel of her milky skin. The smell of her, sweat and cinammon, completely surrounded him, her slick flesh reminiscent of their brief time in the cargo bay. He glanced down at her, saw her inhale deeply, her chest flushed. He couldn't help himself, brushing one hand lightly down her front, over her hardened nipple. She shivered again, the movement causing her backside to shift against his crotch. He came, managing to force himself into making only a quiet grunt, trying not to pass out at the release of tension it brought, thankful that their backs were to the crew so they couldn't see his eyes clench and his jaw tense. Gorram girl, he was hooked.

Just as quickly as it had happened she recovered, bring her foot straight up and clipping him in the forehead. He staggered back, letting her go, and she took the opportunity to slice his legs out from under him, landing him on his back again. This time she placed one delicate foot directly over his neck, and he knew if he moved she was liable to snap it.

Her eyes held a flash of pain and embarassment, before quickly returning to the cool brown pools he'd seen so much of late. As the crew began clapping and started moving down into the cargo bay to start the next lesson, her voice was only loud enough for him to hear.

"Your inactivity makes you weak. Prepare to run." She moved off him, towards her brother, who gave her a proud hug as she chatted to Kaylee. He stood, glad that he'd been fighting, since it was the only thing to excuse his harsh breathing and sweat slicked face. He turned, only to notice Book watching him closely. He'd obviously heard.

"Ain't nuthin' preacher, she's jus' tellin' me off fer pausin' durin' the fight." Book smiled, an understanding smile that spoke of knowledge Jayne didn't know he had. River was stretching out near Inara, chatting while she worked out any kicks from the fight. The mercenary was mercifully wearing his cargo pants, and he was grateful for their prescence as his traitorous cock began to harden again. Book nodded once.

"Of course she was."

And Jayne wondered if he could ever outrun her hold on him.

**A/N: **Feels a little heavy handed, right? Hopefully it got the point across (hint, emotional inactivity. Hint!) Please review :)


	6. Wrath

**TITLE:** Wrath

**DISCLAIMER: **Nope, still belonging to the glorious Mr. Whedon.

**A/N:** I've had this particular sin in mind since the very beginning, and with all things we over anticipate, I'm worried it hasn't come out right! Ah well, here's hopin'! Graphic violence.

**WRATH: **A feeling related to one's perception of having been offended/wronged and a tendency to undo that wrongdoing by retaliation. In Dante, "love of justice perverted to revenge".

Jayne was seeing red. He, Mal and Zoe had been searching this dump for three hours, and from the conversations over the comm link, Wash, Simon, Kaylee and Book weren't having much luck of their own. They'd been searching for three days now, and Jayne felt bile rise up in his throat when he thought about why.

It'd been one of the Captain's better ideas originally, regardless of how it'd turned out. Stop off on Maquite for a break, feel the warm weather and enjoy local pools the planet was famous for. The whole crew had been overjoyed, and Jayne had almost felt his mood brighten. The circles under his eyes and newfound gauntness of his face told a different story. It had been a week since their sparring match in the cargo bay, and desperate desire still filled Jayne with such tension he quaked.

Every step, every movement, everything she did he watched like a drowning man gasping at bubbles, bubbles which only taunted and left him empty and unsated. People had stopped asking him what was wrong for whatever reason, he didn't have the awareness to question why. She was all he could think about, and he was pushing his body to the limit everyday just to hold himself back from touching her. He worked out until he could barely stand, until he fell into the few short hours of restless, dream filled sleep that did little to refresh or revive him.

So he'd been desperate for some space, some distance, somewhere to run from her presence which was filling the ship with the smell of sex and cinammon everywhere Jayne turned. The first day had been fine, he'd gone for a run, and then a hunt, taking out every bit of pent up tension and lust on his own body and then on a bevvy of animals. The bloodlust he'd experience whilst killing them didn't quite compare, specially since he only ever took kill shots, but it redirected his focus a little. Their larders were stocked with fresh meat, which Kaylee and Book were freeze drying and preparing for long haul storage.

The rest of the crew had picked vegetables, and the only time anyone mentioned Jayne's near constant physical activity was when Simon had reminded him to stay hydrated, not even turning away from the computer in the infirmary. Apparently they'd all just given up trying to slow him down. Jayne didn't have time to think if that was weird or not.

The second day was when the trouble had started. Kaylee had begged Mal to let her and the other girls go down to the river to bathe, and the Captain couldn't resist those pleading puppy dog eyes of hers. He'd instructed Book and Wash to accompany them, as well as asking Jayne to skim by during his run to keep watch from a distance.

No one had told them it was a slaver planet. Apparently it was one of the best kept secrets in the 'verse.

He'd run past only to find the crew panicking, calling out into the woods, screaming out her name. River. From what he made out from a distraught and babbling Kaylee some men had sprinted from the bushes, snatched her from her spot by the water, and bolted on. They'd hit her, hard, with a black jack. Book and Wash barely had time to draw their weapons before it was all over, and no one could find a trace.

The rage had started slowly, like a river beginning to overfill, and had kept filling him until his eyes glazed over and his vision swam red. He'd immediately gone into tracker mode, before decided the direction they went. The ship was nearby, and he'd beguns shouting orders for people to weapon up and grab water and supplies.

It was a measure of how worried they all were that Mal didn't even take offence to the order issuance, simply complied, knowing his merc was the best chance they had of getting her back. Slavers never kept their hoard long, knowing it was better to be caught empty handed they often had contracts worked out before the kidnapping, and people sold fast, some within hours of capture.

They'd started three days ago, sweeping in diamond patterns to keep their trail harder to trace and allow them to rendevouz when necessary. Jayne had set a gruelling pace, but no one was arguing with the man whose body was strung tighter than a bow string.

Finally they'd come here. Jayne was beyond frustrated but finally he saw something. A pile of rocks that didn't belong, and a few leaves swept over a crease in the ground a little too deliberately.

"Capt'n, comm the others, we got a hold." Mal nodded as he indicated to Zoe, who already had the comm out and ready to go. The others were about fifteen minutes north of them, and travelling back as fast as they could. It wasn't fast enough.

"I'm goin' in." Mal opened his mouth to argue when Jayne finally turned and looked him in the eyes for the first time in three days. The haunted, desperate look they held was enough to give the older man pause, and he nodded.

"We'll be right behind you."

Jayne nodded before slipping his finger under the rocks and finding the notch he needed. The ground scraped away until a narrow staircase was visible, leading down into the earth. As he followed it down he came to a series of cave chambers. Three ways to go. He inhaled deeply. Sweat, blood, and the faintest hint of cinammon. He chose the second cave entrance, leaving a single large footstep prominent in the dirt so that the others could follow.

He stuck to the walls of the cave, careful not to betray a footfall. There were no cameras, they obviously relied on their ingenius hiding skills to avoid detection of their lair. Big mistake. He turned a corner into a slightly narrower chamber, finally coming to a larger cavern. The pens.

There were at least twelve of them, lining the walls of the cavern, and each held one or more occupants. Exhausted, half dead, they saw him and cringed. Most of them were young, largely women, and all were reasonably attractive despite their obvious malnutrition. His blood boiled as he thought about the implications. Sex slavers were the worst of the bunch, and the sight of several young children almost knocked him from the icy cool edge of rage on which he'd been balancing. Ain't no crime greater in the 'verse than to do that to someone, specially a kid, he thought to himself.

The smell of excrement and unwashed bodies filled his nostrils, but he didn't care. As long as they thought he was a slaver, they'd stay quiet. He needed quiet. He heard the air shift and turned to see Zoe, Mal and Simon, the latter with his doctors case. Good, they'd been quiet too.

He moved slowly along the pens, finally coming to one on the right. A small, skinny figure was laying in the corner, facing the wall. The dark, tangled hair could belong to anyone, but beneath the smell of filth and fear there was cinammon. He tore the cage door off it's hinges, tearing into the small area and to the corner.

Carefully, he rolled her over. The girl was a mess. She was almost completely naked, except for a strip of leather across her breasts, and two triangles of the same material covering her front and rear. Her pale body was marred with bruises, some he saw were hands prints, dug across her thighs. Several deep cuts marred her abdomen, and one looked like it was verging on infection. Her ribs looked cracked in one area, and her lip was split. A large wound on her head indicated how they'd chosen to knock her out this time.

Her eyes fluttered but she didn't wake. Quickly he removed his massive coat and lay her on it, zipping it up and picking her up gingerly. He turned and heard Zoe gasp. Mal was breathing heavily through his nose, and Simon's face was white with horror.

"Take her, get her back to the ship." Zoe stepped forward and gingerly took the girl from his arms, careful not to jostle her. She looked at him.

"Wash is bringing the mule around." She waited a second, before nodding and turning, Simon following behind her. Mal stood a few feet away as he watched Jayne change. He'd thought he'd seen his mercenary angry, thought he'd understand all the fury and rage that he could possibly emit. He was wrong.

They heard a sound, voice, louder and louder as they entered the cavern. Mal turned back to Jayne.

"You coming?" Jayne stared into space for a moment, before shaking his head once. Mal nodded.

"We'll send it back for you." And with that his Captain snuck back out.

The rage filled him to the brim, and like a flooding river through a dam, something inside him snapped.

Jayne's memory of this would always be a blur. He thought about eight men had entered the cavern. He thought about seven of them were armed. But then he didn't think about anything but the rage.

The first was lucky, a quick kill, his neck snapped with barely a movement. The second found his face being crushed beneath Jayne's meaty paw, felt his jaw snap before the mercenary finally let go. Two more were taken down with quick blast of Vera, who'd been strapped to his back since he found River.

His vision was completely clouded over as he approached the next two, knocking aside their weapons before grabbing their collars. His scream of rage filled the cavern as he smashed their skulls into the wall behind him, ignoring their dazed bodies as he moved on to the final two. He didn't speak, only grunted as he snapped the first man's spine, before approaching the cowering last one. The man trembled as he approached, desperately groping for a weapon but finding none at hand. He looked at the shattered bodies of his comrades, of which three were still alive but badly injured, then back at Jayne.

"Who are you?" Jayne grinned toothily, without mirth, as he slid Binky out of his sheath and stalked towards the cowering slaver.

"Wrath."

Jayne leaned against the wall of the cavern, puffing on his cigar. He'd opened the pens afterwards, and their horrified occupants had been too frightened to be grateful as they ran to freedom, and away from the monster who'd freed them. He nudged at the canvas bags by his feet. One held the cash he'd found in the office just off the cavern, the safe a standard issue Kylite, easy to crack. He'd tossed one of the bags to a man who was escaping, and the man had nodded, knowing it was to be used to repair their shattered lives.

The last bag, well, that was just for him. He looked over his handiwork. There were 14 mutilated corpses decorating the ground, and Jayne knew he was covered almost entirely in blood and grime. More slavers had entered as he'd been dealing with the first group, but he'd only taken a hit to the shoulder before he'd dispatched the rest of them. Not all straight away, most were just disabling blows. They were awake for long enough.

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Simon enter the cavern. The younger man met his eyes and nodded. "She's stable. Bloodied and broken, but stable. They didn't...they couldn't...she fought to hard. She mumbled something about being too much trouble." The mercenary nodded, relief flooding him that she hadn't had that particular horror to add to her ever growing list of torturous experiences.

Jayne waited as the doctor turned to look at the carnage in the cavern, waited for the digust, the horror, the judgement. When the doctor turned back to face him however there was only a cool approval in his eyes. And professional interest.

"What happened to their ears?"

Jayne had been silent on their ride back to the ship, trying to calm himself down. He'd burned off enough of his rage that now there was only fear and worry. He'd nearly lost her. He'd nearly lost her to that. He'd nearly lost her without every really having her.

Simon glanced over from his position beside Jayne in the backseat. Wash was silent as he drove, but the doctor knew the pilot hadn't been at all fussed by Jayne's bloody appearance. He watched Jayne's obvious contemplation and smiled softly to himself. They arrived back at the ship, but a quick glance to Wash spoke volumes, and the pilot left them standing in the cargo bay. Simon met Jayne's eyes.

"You know, you're probably in love with her." And before the merc could close his gaping mouth and respond, the younger man smirked and slipped up the stairs.

He stood quietly in the cargo bay, trying to wrap his mind around the doctor's words. He moved slowly towards the harsh lights of the infirmary, pausing in the doorway. She was clean now, and out of her slave rags. She'd obviously been bathed, and would have probably been cold if she'd had only the thin white infirmary blanket over her slender form. As it was a massive jacket had been draped over her, and Jayne saw one fragile looking hand clasping it tightly as she slept. He thought she could keep it forever. He could see that she'd dropped weight far too quickly, weight that her already slight form didn't have to lose. Her hipbones protruded under the sheet, and if it wasn't for his jacket lain over her Jayne knew he could probably count her ribs.

Even pale and so thin she was barely a sheath of skin over bone, even with her lip split, even with her eye black and her head bandaged, even with the dark bruises marring her arms as well as the rest of her, even with all that brutality she was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He sat quietly on the chair beside the bed, watching her breathe, and reached out a hand to draw an errant lock of hair from her face. This would never happen to her again, not on his watch.

She let out the tiniest, sweetest moan while she slept, and Jayne felt that craving rise up in his stomach. He wanted to sex her sure, but right now he just wanted to hold her. To be allowed to hold her, to be held by her. To make her laugh and see her smile. To protect her, even knowing she could protect herself. To fight by her, spar with her, give her his last name and wake up to the smell of cinammon.

Jayne figured that might be love.

And wondered whether a sack of ears was considered acceptable as a courting gift.

**A/N:** Oh this was a long one, slightly darker than the rest but it seems the angst is drawing to a close, n'est pas? Hope everyone enjoys this, next up, Gluttony, to be followed by an epilogue :D


	7. Gluttony

**TITLE:** Gluttony

**DISCLAIMER:** No no no no! Not mine!

**A/N:** The penultimate chapter of this little story, to be followed by an epilogue. I am dedicating this chapter to the brilliantly talented goddessofbirth, who has faithfully reviewed this story and claims gluttony as her sin (mainly where Rayne is concerned). If you love Rayne please go read her stories, they're superb :)

**GLUTTONY:** An over-indulgence of anything to the point of waste. Usually pertains to food but can include other excesses. In Dante, one of the sins of excess, excessive desire to the point of over-indulgence.

He waited to be sated. Waited to get sick of her. Waited for this craving, this never ending desire, this burning need to finally abate. Instead it consumed him. He thought that it would be easier now, thought it would back down, thought he'd be able to control himself. He'd thought wrong.

After the hell that was Maquite and the slavers he'd watched the girl recover. Simon, having noticed his careful study of her during the early hours of her physical therapy, had surprisingly asked for his help. Pointed out that Jayne had a better knowledge of working out muscle groups, and that although she'd only been gone for three days, she'd been starved during that time, and had been bedridden for two weeks with broken bones and infected cuts. Pointed out that having someone to work out with her would be a help.

Everyone helped. Everyone was deeply shaken by the sight of one of their own in that condition, and everyone felt the remnants of fear for what would have happened if they hadn't gotten to her in time. There always people with her, Kaylee colouring with her, Inara braiding her hair, Zoe watching on as River and Wash played with his dinosaurs. Book was reading to her from the latest magazine on biomechanics and legal ethics, whilst Mal would sit quietly in the corner and talk to her about flying. Simon himself had thanked Jayne profusely, much to the mercenary's embarassment, and had even given him a bottle of aged whisky he'd been saving for some time.

The women on the ship were no better, with Kaylee and Inara making him out to be some kind of hero. Even Zoe had doted on him, making him a bowl of wife soup. Wash would have been liable to be jealous if his pregnant wife hadn't made a whole tub for him too. Even Mal had made a fuss, bringing his pay up to 11 percent, going on about his crew loyalty. Jayne didn't miss the amused glances or indulgent smiles they threw his way, and he knew that they suspected something was going on between him and the Reader. Or had gone on...he wasn't sure yet how to cross that bridge.

Enjoying the good will of the crew more than he was willing to admit, Jayne agreed to help the girl. He'd gone into the infirmary that morning and been greeted by her calm, peaceful gaze. He had no idea how someone could look that peaceful with broken ribs and still visible bruises, but somehow she did. He didn't say anything, just walked straight to her bed and gently, so careful of her fragile body, lifted her up into his arms. She weighed next to nothing.

The jolt was instant, she felt so right in his arms he wondered why he ever let her walk anywhere, and she had given him an amused smile as she picked up on his thought. He shook his head to clear the fog of lust she unknowingly caused with that smile, and proceeded slowly into the cargo bay.

The workout was short, he wanted to take it as slow as possible, letting her get used to walking again after so long in bed. How Simon had gotten her to stay in the infirmary as long as he did was anyone's guess, but she had behaved, hadn't freaked out once. Now she let him gently set her down and encourage her soundlessly to step forward.

She managed about six steps, him holding her tiny hands and walking backwards, before she stopped, exhausted. He let her stand for a moment, pretending not to notice how heavily she was leaning on him, before encouraging her a few more feet. After that he set her down on his workout bench and encouraged her to stretch out all her limbs. She was still painfully thin, even for River, but the very slow introduction of calories into her diet Simon had prescribed had allowed her some respite. He knew he looked only slightly better, lean from the workouts he was punishing himself with, unable to believe he'd let her go through that kind of torture.

After only a few more stretches it was obvious that the girl was exhausted, so he'd picked her up again and taken her back to the infirmary. She'd smiled at him sleepily, before passing out from her efforts. The infected cuts had weakened her already abused body, but she was slowly recovering.

They'd worked like that for two weeks, him pushing her a little further each time, slowly building up her strength. Lost muscle slowly returned to her lean limbs, and her control and strength got a little better each day,

The crew noticed.

"Ain't it sweet, preacher? He's so damn careful with her. I ain't ever seen Jayne be that careful with anythin' 'cept maybe that time I was shot, an' even then it weren't nuthin' like this."

"No interferring Mal, you can see how gentle he is with the girl, you know it's not just that extra percent you gave him. I nearly choked on my tea when he was nagging her to eat last night."

"Wifey, I know I've seen that look before somewhere. Maybe last time we got paid?" "Or maybe this morning when you looked in the mirror. I think that might be love, husband."

"I know, _mei mei_, I know how you feel about him."

Jayne waited for her to reprimand him for his behaviour over the last few weeks, waited for her to yell or scream at him for lying to her after their tryst in the cargo bay. It never came. She just smiled at him. And the more it never came and the more she just smiled at him the more he thought Simon was right. He was probably in love with the girl.

So finally, after three weeks of recovery, she was back to peak health. When he'd questioned her claim of feeling better she'd swiped his legs out from under him, pinning him with her boot and a grin.

He'd smiled as he stood. He'd hated seeing her looking so damn weak, she was fragile enough looking as it was, he never wanted to see that bruising on her again.

"Form has returned, the girl no longer needs your rehabilitative therapy." Jayne had been hurt, briefly, but her tone held no recrimination, and her eyes sparkled at him. "Are there any other physical therapies he can offer?"

Jayne had grinned like a wolf at that, grabbing her around the waist, and kissing her soundly. And that's how they'd fallen into this. They'd kept it quiet, kept it between just them, though the crew obviously knew something was going on.

That had been almost three weeks ago, almost three weeks of taking her whenever and wherever he could. Three weeks of feeling glutted and sated, only to immediately become starved for her again. He couldn't get enough of her voice, all kitten mewls and banshee cries, sounds that echoed in his ears and around his bunk long after she had left to sneak back to her own room.

He couldn't get enough of her skin, had licked, sucked and bitten every inch of her body and still dreamed about that pale, milky flesh twined around him. He couldn't get enough of her hair, her smell, her body, her voice. He wanted every inch of her covered in him, wanted to smell her on his skin all day, wanted to ravish her non stop.

It didn't help that the little hellcat sure gave all while they were going at it. Twisting into positions he'd never even dreamed of, scratching and clawing as he pleasured her. Having a Reader in your bed was a hell of an experience – any thought that crossed his mind she could and would respond to. The day they'd been stuck cleaning the bathroom together she had pursed her lips.

Before the thought of that pretty pink pout wrapped around his dick had fully formed she was already on her knees, making him bite into his own knuckle in an effort not to cry out. He'd thought about her naked during dinner and come down to his bunk afterwards to find her lying in his bunk wearing nothing but her combat boots and a smile. He'd been thinking of her in the shower, about to move his hand south to take care of things, when she'd slipped in behind him. Just thinking about her slick skin under the spray of water while he took her against the wall was enough to make his eyes cross.

He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't get close enough, couldn't take more from her. He was addicted, feeling her rushing through his blood like a hit, drugging him into ecstacy and leaving him desperately craving more. He knew he had to do something. He knew what it was. It was already too much after only three weeks, he had to do something.

God, this part was hard. But she was worth it.

He'd had to do it over dinner, the only time the whole crew was guaranteed to be in one place. He'd waited until everyone had eaten their fill (a hungry Captain was a grumpy Captain) before he spoke.

"I'm in love with the girl, 'm gonna marry 'er." The whole table was silent for a moment, faces blank, except for River. The corners of her lips turned upwards in the quiet way she had, and he knew that she'd known this would happen. Being with a Reader sure helped avoid complications. Mal sighed.

"Ok, who do I owe?" Kaylee spoke up. "I had less than a month!"

Zoe was next, "I had five weeks." Inara frowned, "I thought at least two months." Book and Wash both shook their heads, "We both had three months."

Simon smirked, "I'll take that, I had three weeks." Mal sighed, handing over the cash they'd obviously agreed upon, and Simon quickly put it in his pocket. "How'd you know?" Simon had smiled smugly at the question, "Never underestimate River's ability to get her way." Jayne sighed.

"The whole time?" Every person at the table, including his bride-to-be, raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed again.

"I'll never get this crew."

**A/N:** Yay for fluffiness! Review please :)


	8. Epilogue

**TITLE: **Epilogue

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine.

**A/N: **The last part of this little series. A massive thanks to the lovely people who have faithfully reviewd this fic, often more than once! You've made this feel incredibly worthwhile and I'm so glad so many people have enjoyed it.

The bar was loud, brimming with people as she looked around the different groups, eyes always searching for her next customer. She'd noticed the big man, had heard from the older girls that he used to be a prime customer until something changed. They'd told her about him with slight frowns, obviously sad to see him off their lists.

He was sitting with a group of other men, all laughing with a drink in their hands. They'd obviously been there for a while, and were definitely the other side of intoxicated. The older man with white hair and mocha skin was grinning as a man with brown hair and an even browner coat recounted some story or another. The strawberry blonde man and the slim man with black hair were laughing far too loudly, tongues obviously loosened by their imbiding. The tallest man held her attention though.

Thick cords of muscle were standing out in his arms and shoulders, and the grin he was sporting was positively wolfish. His shirt had been taken off when the bars heat and warmed blood had grown too much for him, and he wearing only his cargo pants and a white wifebeater. His feet were up on the table, big boots bringing all sorts of filthy banter to her mind. One arm had a large tattoo of a dragon curling around his bicep.

As he stood, nearly a head taller than any other man in the bar, she noticed another tattoo along the underside of his thick forearm. Large black letters read SALIGIA. She smiled, adjusting her her tight red dress over her ample bodice and smoothing her blonde curls. She had her opening.

She sauntered to the bar towards him, leaning her back to it and resting her elbows as she stood close enough to smell the whisky and sweat on him, as well as something clean and spicey. Cinnamon? She waited for him to finish placing his order with the bartender, waited for him to notice her. Finally, growing irritated with his failure to register her presence, she spoke, injecting enough purr into her voice to start an engine.

"What's your tattoo mean, sugar?" He glanced over too her, giving her a quick up and down. She told herself she didn't mind that his eyes registered no interest in her curvy physique. He glanced down at his forearm, smiling at some private joke. His voice was harsh with whiskey and cigars when he spoke.

"'S my daughters name." She blinked, quickly glancing at the thick silver wedding band on his left hand that she should have noticed earlier. Nonplussed (she's heard enough from the other girls to know this one was worth a tumble) she traced one long red nail along his skin.

"Pretty, what's it mean?" He'd looked at her strangely, pulling his arm away. "It's a mnemonic, a memory device." She looked at him blankly, finding it odd to hear such a long word spoken in his rough Rim accent, before recovering and moving herself closer. "What's it help you remember?" She knew the private smirk on his face wasn't for her but refused to be thrown off her stride. She was the prettiest damn whore in this house, she'd get what she wanted.

"Stands for seven sins." She smiled seductively, moving closer still, "Oh yeah? Ya like sinning do ya?" She thought she'd almost had him, had seen those colbalt blue eyes cloud over with lust, until she noticed the direction he was looking. His eyes were staring at the doorway like it was made of diamonds. She turned, seeing several women enter. The tall, mocha skinned beauty holding the boy who couldn't have been older than three headed towards the table along with the graceful woman with eyes like a cat and rich dark curls. Her gown was made of fine silks, and one perfectly manicured hand rested over a swollen stomach. The third woman trailed behind them, her arms wrapped around a newborn baby whose father was unmistakedly the dark haired man sitting at the table. The woman's light brown hair fell in loose curls, framing her sweetheart face.

But it was the last entrant of the bar who he was staring at. She was younger, couldn't be more than 20 years old. Slender and pale, her chocolate brown curls tumbled wildly down her back, and her fitted dark blue gown made her skin look ethereal, although it's sleevlessness made her thin arms more apparent. The oversized black combat books looked out of place with the elegant dress, drawing attention to lean legs. She was walking slower than the others, clasping the hand of a tiny carbon copy of herself, only the dark eyes were replaced with cobalt blue ones. The little girl viewed the bar like a little owl, scanning for something. Those eyes lit up when they caught sight of the man, and a happy burble escaped her mouth as she started to pull her tiny mother towards the bar.

The whore took one last shot. "Well, do ya like sinnin', sugar?" The man didn't look away from the woman as she approached, a smile lighting up her eyes as she was dragged behind her tiny lookalike. He grinned widely as he walked away from her and towards the pair. She barely heard his response as he walked forward.

"More'n you could ever know."

The End

**A/N: **Ah children, the tale has finished, I almost feel sad! This has been so so much fun to write, and your responses have filled me with much joy :) Until the muses strike again, take care Browncoats.

The Frisky Firelily


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